


Bitter

by Ninjarocker



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alpha Dave Strider - Freeform, Alpha Rose Lalonde - Freeform, Awkward First Times, Cancer, Cuddles, Eventually the full yaois, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Hella snark, Humanstuck, Humor, M/M, Panic Attacks, Pictures, Sadstuck, School, Slow Build, Stupidity, Swearing, cursing, davekat - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-06
Updated: 2014-08-19
Packaged: 2018-01-11 10:08:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1171795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ninjarocker/pseuds/Ninjarocker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bittersweet love story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Life at best is bittersweet.  
> -Jack Kirby

= = > Be shocked

You are Karkat Vantas. You are small- tiny even. The pastel green walls of this office make you feel smaller. They make your startlingly huge personality shrink. Because this is where it started.

             You have endured so much. Any form of Leukimia is hard. You would like to say that yours takes the cake, though. Because it’s happening to you.

            Chronic Lymphocitic Leukimia.

            It doesn’t go away, ever. It is incurable. When you first learned that you had it, you got ten years. Twelve, maybe. You were seventeen. You are twenty two now. It generally effects people in their fifties. Here you are beating the odds.

            And it looks like you’re about to do it again. Last week you passed out while walking to the class you teach at the local highschool.

           And Doctor Serket is saying something you really don’t want her to be saying.

          “Karkat, are you listening to me? This is quite important.” Yeah, you know. You fucking know, and you say as much.

         “There’s nothing you can do?” Kankri asks weakly. You would laugh at your brothers lack of a paragraph long tie in about how not calling you Mr. Vantas triggered some stupid fuck somewhere, but right now, you really can’t.

         “With treatment, he will have not more than eleven months.” _With_ treatment. Chemo. Well, at least you were finally going to get that sought after thigh gap. Though, you were not a woman, thigh gaps do not contribute to sexiness, and you thought your chubbiness was a part of your charm.

        “I’m supposed to have at least five more years.” You whisper. You don’t need another lecture about how cancer is a mutation, and fuck all, so you keep it low.

        God damn it, did your body hate you so much that it didn’t even want to last until the next season of Sherlock? Hah. Laugh so you don’t cry.

        Oh shit, you’re going to cry.

       “I’m…dying?” You croak out loud enough for them to hear. As if you haven’t been dying all along. But the end is in sight. Eleven months.

       Eleven months, and you, Karkat Vantas, the sappy, angry, tiny, English teacher would no longer exist.

       The tenderness in which she looks at you with those sharp blue eyes and says nothing rips you apart.

[](http://s1142.photobucket.com/user/NinjarockerL505/media/Bitter-1.png.html)

 


	2. Just a Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You will never forget the moment Dave Strider came careening into your life.

= = > Be the Crab

                You are not a crab.  You will not respond to that shit.

= = > Be the dying guy

                You should have just taken crab.  You forget the narrator is a dick sometimes.

                After your fateful(hah) trip to Dr. Serket’s, you stay holed up in your apartment for the rest of the week  and re-watch every episode of the _Fresh Prince of Bel Air_ that you can, while you can enjoy it at least.  You start Chemo on Monday and you’ll probably be spitting up your guts after it starts.  Yeah you’d read the horror stories.  A few friends come by, and sit with you, not talking.  Nepeta cries, as does (surprisingly) Terezi and you wish they wouldn’t, because it makes you want to cry too.  Not that you are overly sad, but you hate making them miserable, no matter what you say to contradict this.  Your cousin Kanaya makes you dinner, and furthermore makes you eat.  You ignore every facet of Kankri’s presence.

                They all just let you wallow, probably because they are wallowing themselves.

                On Sunday, however, you get exactly what you need.  He comes in without your knowledge, and is sitting on the couch when you wake up.  You nearly skewer the clown with a butter knife, but stop upon realizing that he is just the clown you were waiting for. 

                He gave up his world tour or some shit to come home to be there for you as you died.  You couldn’t think of a better friend, and you don’t know how you ever did.

                You rest your head in his lap as he murmurs something about motherfucking miracles, and you think that if you died right here, right now, you think you would be okay.

                But you don’t die.

                And, Monday, of course, is school.  And you can’t let rapidly approaching doom fuck you up in the classroom.

                So you wrap yourself in a thick, plush, black sweater that covers your crisp, white work shirt, slacks, and an even thicker jacket.  You resist the urge to run a comb through your hair. Not that it would help anyways.  The mix of Latin genes and neglect has made that place a mess you couldn’t give two shits about.

                You know that the school lets you wear whatever the hell you want, because hey, cancer, but you do make an effort.  They didn’t have to give you the job, especially since you’re dying.          

Even so, you are cold.  Even in a Texan October.  You thought you would stay warm, but alas, no such luck.  So the sweater might be staying on.

                You take the bus, as per usual- perks of living in a city like Austin, you didn’t need a car.

                Would you be able to take the bus after starting Chemo?  You have to admit, you would miss the way the comforting feeling that you got while sitting in your regular spot and staring idly out the window.

                When you reach the rather shitty school, you hop down the steps of the bus with no more than a curt nod to the bus driver.  Damn, you have to hop.  That is sad.  Why the hell are you so short?

                You walk quickly into the facility, stopping only to scream at some seniors in the court yard who happen to be smoking.  You do it more vehemently than normal, but you don’t give one half of a shit, even less than you gave for your hair, in all honesty.  After all, you are known for having minor anger issues among the students here. Minor.

                When you finally get up the two flights of stairs to your slightly too large classroom you drop into the chair squeezed tightly between the clusterfuck that is your desk and the out-dated chalk board and take out your phone. Eight new messages.  You really should be doing something about the education your kids missed while you were wallowing in self pity, but nope, you need to text people like a fifteen year old girl. 

                KANAYA: Karkat

                KANAYA: Karkat Vantas

                KANAYA: Do Not Ignore Me Karkat

                You decide to answer her instead of Kankri.

                KARKAT: CALM YOUR TITS KANAYA, I’M FINE

                KANAYA: I Assure You That My ‘Tits’ Are Quite Calm

                KANAYA: I Simply Wish To Provide You With Moral Support

                KARKAT: I DON’T NEED ANY FUCKING MORAL SUPPORT.  WHAT I NEED IS THESE LITTLE PIECES OF SHIT THAT I HAVE TO FUCKING DEAL WITH TO STOP SMOKING RIGHT IN FUCKING FRONT OF ME.

                KANAYA: I See

                KANAYA: Maybe The Events Of This Last Week Bothers You More Than You Would Like To Admit

                KARKAT: WHAT DYING? NO, I’M NOT BOTHERED AT ALL, I AM COMPLETELY READY TO SAY GOODBYE TO THIS GODFORSAKEN WORLD AND EMBRASE THE ABYSS THAT MY OWN SUICIDAL BODY IS PULLING ME TOWARDS.

                KANAYA: You Must Inform Your Superiors Of This New Development

                KARKAT: YEAH I KNOW, JESUS FUCK.

                KARKAT: I’LL DO IT AT THE END OF THE DAY.

                KARKAT: I DON’T FEEL LIKE WALKING ALL THAT WAY RIGHT NOW.

                KARKAT: AN EMAIL WOULD PROBABLY BE BETTER

                KANAYA: Can You Also Inform Your Students With An Email

                KARKAT: ARE YOU ACCUSING ME OF TRYING TO DODGE RESPONSIBILITY WITH ELEGANT LANGUAGE?  BECAUSE I CAN TELL YOU RIGHT THE FUCK NOW HOW UNAPPRECIATED YOUR MORAL SUPPORT IS TURNING OUT TO BE.  NOT THAT *THAT* IS SURPRISING.

                KANAYA: Yes I Am, And Yes I Know

                KANAYA: But Support Is Not Always Painless And This Is A Fact That You Must Accept

                KARKAT: …

                KARKAT: STILL, I’M NOT SURE THAT’S THE BEST IDEA.

                KARKAT: WHAT IF I UPSET THEM OR SOMETHING?

                KARKAT: I DON’T WANT TO LOSE MY JOB AT THIS POINT.

                KANAYA: I Believe That All Will Be Understood

                KARKAT: ARE YOU SURE?

                KANAYA: Have I Ever Steered You Wrong Before

                KARKAT: . . .

                KARKAT: THANKS  KANAYA.

                KANAYA: That Is All I Ask

                KANAYA: I Wish You Success With Your Day

                KANAYA: :)

                KARKAT: DID YOU JUST DO WHAT I THINK YOU DID?  DID YOU CRAFT AN EMOTICON?

                KANAYA: :)

                KARKAT: FUCK, I REALLY AM DYING AREN’T I?

                KARKAT: AND THAT WAS SAID WITH LAUGHING SARCASM.

                KARKAT: SO DON’T START CRYING LIKE ERIDAN

                KANAYA: I Do Not Appreciate Your Humor

                KARKAT: …

                KARKAT: SORRY

                KANAYA: It Is Fine Dear Karkat

                KANAYA: How Are You Getting To The Clinic

                KARKAT: I’LL GET KANKRI TO DRIVE ME.  TO AND FROM.  EVEN IF HE MAKES ME ANGRY ENOUGH TO VOMIT.  DON’T UN-CALM YOUR TITS KANAYA, JUST CONCENTRATE ON GETTING IT ON WITH THE BOOZY BLONDE ON YOUR DATE.

                KANAYA: I Am Relatively Sure That It Is Not Possible To Vomit Out Of Anger

                KANAYA:And She Is Not Boozy

                KANAYA: But, Alas, I Will Do Just That

                KARKAT: HOLY SHITSTAINS BATMAN, ARE YOU ACTUALLY GOING TO?

                KARKAT: NOT MY VIRGINAL KANAYA.

                KANAYA: I Must Take My Leave As My Work Has Begun For The Day

                KANAYA: But If I Did Not I Would Imply That I Am Less Virginal Than You In So Many Words But For Now

                KANAYA: I Bid You Ado

                KARKAT: BYE

 

                Contemplating on how you manage to fuck up everything, even a simple conversation you move onto Kankri’s messages.  Who the fuck even writes like that?  Fucking.  Pretentious.  Asshole. 

                                KANKRI: Karkat

                KANKRI: Karkat, I kn9w y9ur ph9ne is 9n.

                KANKRI: Y9u’ve 6een ign9ring me for days

                KANKRI: Just answer me Karkat

                KARKAT: OH CALM YOURSELF YOU FUCKING TWAT

                KARKAT: I’M NOT DEAD SO FUCK OFF.

                KANKRI: Please refrain fr9m using that s9rt of language

                KARKAT: YEAH, IT CAN BE TRIGGERING FUCK YOU.  HOW CAN YOU POSSIBLY STAND BEING SUCH A WHINING WASTE OF TIME?

                KANKRI: Karkat I insist 9n y9u letting me take you t9 and fr9m the sch99l.

                KARKAT: I’M ALREADY FUCKING DYING, I REFUSE TO LET YOUR MOTOR MOUTH PUT ME IN THE GRAVE EARLIER THAN NEED BE.

                KANKRI: Karkat, please, let me help y9u.

                KARKAT: I DON’T NEED YOU, YOU *STUPID* FUCKING CUMSTAIN.

                KARKAT: I’M NOT SOME FUCKING THING THAT YOU CAN GET YOUR ALTRUIST ROCKS OFF TO.  GO FIND SOME OTHER POOR SOUL TO BE YOUR CO-STAR IN THE LIFETIME MOVIE THAT IS YOUR FUCKING LIFE.

                KANKRI: Karkat, y9u kn9w that I d9 n9t l99k at y9u like that

                KARKAT: FUCK OFF KANRI.

                KANKRI: This is n9t the end of this c9nversati9n

                KARKAT: YES IT IS, YOU VERITABLE SACK OF SHIT.

                The bell rings, and you are happy for this, as you shut off your phone.

                You barely make it to fifth period.  You are tired of stupid questions, like “There was homework” and “What quiz”.  You had them last year, when they were juniors, so you know what type of shit they pull.  Don’t they know they’re driving their cancer riddled teacher absolutely bat shit insane?

                However, they provide a nice distraction from the fact that you are indeed dying.  Your body is shutting down.  Damn, that sucks.  You shake it off whenever the thought even crosses your mind.  You have better things to do.

                You do not tell them that you are going to kick the bucket sooner than later, though.  You don’t want anything to change, even remotely.  You want them to be at full shitstain-ness.  It makes you feel semi-normal, and really, that’s all you can ask.

= = > Stop being a pussy and do it

You don’t want to enter the building.  You know that when you do, you’re going to be in enemy territory.  They’re going to poke you with needles, shove drugs down your throat, and ever so slowly bleed the life out of you.  Or they’re going to cure you.

                Then again, there is no cure for what you have.

= = >Future Karkat, your two cents

                You remember this moment.  You remember it for the rest of your life, which is admittedly short.  However, even if you lived a million years, you would never forget the moment that Dave Strider came careening into your life.

                Careening is indeed the right word.  You don’t know how he slammed into you as hard as he did, because you had been standing as still as possible for the past ten minutes.  But he is Dave Strider, and for him very little is impossible.  So he slammed into you.  Hard.

                In fact, he knocked you to the ground.  With your disturbing height difference, you are not surprised that you went down.  You can still smell the hazelnut flavored coffee that scalded your stomach when you close your eyes.  The hissing sound that you made still makes Dae laugh.  Damn you want to punch him. 

You remember when your face hit the brick and you saw stars.  You recall vaguely noticing the papers flying from your messenger bag and across the square.  You happily reminisce on the memory of rather violently shoving his crushing weight from your own tiny body.

                You remember getting up, and whipping your head towards him.  You recollect that he already got up, like some sort of ninja.  You can never forget the sight of the bright red scrubs he wore beneath his deep red hoodie.  The way his aviators remained fixed perfectly on his face, somehow.  The way he smoothed out his white blond hair, and damn, did it look soft.  The way the sprinkling of freckles on his pale cheeks darkened as he flushed a bright pink of exasperation.

                You remember this, because in that moment, you realize you have never, nor will you ever be more _furious_ than you were at that exact second.  You wanted to literally kill him, rip his head off and dance in the blood like some horrible Japanese gore-fest. 

As you _felt_ your white shirt stain and begin to stick to you, you clutch your stomach.  You than proceed to toss your cookies all over the brick beneath your feet.

                You’re so glad this is just a memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn thats nasty.  
> Okay, sorry about the lack of pictures guys, there is a plethora of them in upcoming chapters, though, so do not be worried, I didn't trick you into reading this. All art will be posted first on my blog, tempermentalaquarius.tumblr.com. Beware auto play and shitty theme.  
> Sorry for taking so long to update, but I ended up going back and revising maybe 90% of this.  
> I do what I want.  
> Let me know if you liked it! Sorry for minor errors, but it's 12:00 and I don't give too many fucks. I will tomorrow and probably fix this, but until then, no, no fucks at all.  
> See you on the flip side(do people still say that?)


	3. Gotta Catch 'em All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If only you could be your own therapist

==> What the HELL

         Whatever the hell you were expecting, this was not it.

         Wait, back it up.

         Your name is Dave Elizabeth Strider, and you have just transferred to a hospital back in your hometown of Austin, Texas. This time, though, not as a patient. And not in the psych ward. That's a plus.

         You're one lucky fucking duck your degree in psychology didn't go out the window when your sanity did. Surprisingly those don't go hand in hand. If it had, you'd still be living with the invasive hentai tentacles of the elder Striders three poking and prodding into everything you held dear with the excuse that they were _paying_ for your life, so they had a right. Which, you hate to admit, for the copious amount of money you suck up, is more than fair.

         Technically though, you'd always been a little crazy(this was one of the reasons you followed the path of psychology). Well, since you were thirteen at least. For lack of a better description, shit went down, and you came out of it slightly fucked.  Even so, you learned genetics would have forced it's barbed dick up your ass in a couple of years anyway.

         Twenty three, though, that was the age at which you'd been committed for the fifth time, and in turn the longest. That had been a particularly bad two and a half years. You don't like to think about it. But hey, you were better now, and that's what mattered.

         Still, you were smart enough to do something with your life before you went batshit insane(again), so, yeah, that was that. Maybe that said something about your personality. Not that you thought it would ever matter. Because who in their _right mind_ would hire a therapist who was out of his? Apparently the head doctor at Skaia General. Doctor...Scratch? You should check to make sure that's right. But you won't, because, if you're honest, you've perfected bullshitting your way through conversations without remembering someones name.  That happens too often for comfort.

          Now, of course, you didn't live on your own. That'd be insane. You would probably never live on your own again. Not with the amount of shit you've ended up doing. You had to pop so many pills to keep the attacks at bay; if you skipped one dose it was literally _over_. You had so many triggers- god, you couldn't even watch Game of Thrones without supervision.

         On the plus side, though, you haven't had an attack since you left the hospital a year ago. It is sad as fuck, but that is a record for you.

         However, you'd still been given an ultimatum- which was to live with some of you're old college buddies(all deemed appropriate by the one and only Dirk Strider, your superior- in every way- twin), back before you said "fuck it" and lost your shit, or continue to live at casa de Bro in Washington. You think you would be better off here, even if you would miss John.

         So far, you had yet to be proven wrong. Days spent hanging with Terezi, Jade, Tavros and Sollux had been time well spent. They were more than happy to strike the deal with David and Dirk. It was a nice, two floor, five bedroom place that you shared with them, and though there were five people, everyone had enough personal space. Even if you didn't, no one would complain, because it was literally free for the five of you. David had insisted on paying, and no one objected. Those shitty Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff movies made a ton of cash.

         You wince as you think of David. Your brothers had used to call him Dave too. But after what happened... he didn't want his name to be mixed up with yours. Which was fair to be totally honest. He'd even taken the time to explain to you that it hadn't been a malicious act, just a necessary one. It wasn't meant to hurt you. Even though it did.

         He would never have tho know that, though, if it continued to be up to you.

         On a lighter note your housemates, they were great. They'd all needed the money- for all their fancy degrees,money was still tight. Terezi went into civil law, which did not pay a hell of a lot. Tavros had a degree in music, which had him working at Five Guys. Jade went back to school after traveling the world when you graduated to become a veterinarian, so she was shelling out money left and right. And Sollux, for all his skills in computer engineering, was lazy as all fuck. So free housing meant that he could make enough money to survive by coding themes for Tumblr, and spend the rest of his time questing or some shit.

         They came to your DJ-ing gigs. They made you help with the cooking and chores. They teased you. They checked you when you were being a dick, which was often.They didn't treat you like glass, and you appreciated that.

         Theoretically you didn't need a job. Still, with the shit you had going on in your mind, you needed to stay busy, and stay out of your own head. Being a therapist had always helped you to do exactly that. Until it hadn't. You hoped it would do the trick again this time. However, slamming into a tiny body and knocking them to the ground before you even got into the hospital on your first day was a severe blow to this mentality. The one where you could, you know, handle life on your own(okay, it was a pseudo on-your-own, but it's as close as you can ever get) . You tried to take an early bus, to get here at least fifteen minutes before your shift started, but ended up fucking up and missing it. Which was why you were practically sprinting towards the hospital doors. You were wearing scrubs simply because you realized that patients reacted better to that then a suit- it seemed to leel the playing field with you. Like you weren't some dick with a notepad trying to psyco-analyze them, even if that's exactly what you were. Surprisingly, your record with patient care was fantastic- most of them were better off after sessions with you, so you knew what you were talking about.

         Even so, after all of this preparetion(fuck you, the bus thing wasn't your fault-it was Jade and the damn pill check thing she does every time you leave the house), closing your eyes for a brief two seconds to let the sweet meshing of retro and futuristic that was the Off pepper steak remix run through your ears as it approached your favorite drop as you dashed towards the hospital doors was your downfall. You slammed into what you first assumed was a middle-schooler. It wasn't. It was a full grown man. You realized this when he yelled "FUCK"as your coffee splashed all over his sweater. It was cemented when he elbowed you in your ribs hard enough to break them if he'd had better aim. It takes you seconds to get off the ground, because, hell, your a fucking ninja.

         You wince at the papers that fly out of his bag. Damn you hope this guy isn't someone that can that can get you fired. When he finally gets up, his face contorts into this sort of scowl that you can't hope to describe. His large chocolate brown eyes widen enough to crease his caramel skin, and you swear, if his lips weren't twisted into a snarl, he would have been the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen. Seriously- not handsome, beautiful. From the way his hair fell into his face to the way his teeth were just a little too sharp for comfort.

         You weren't struck like this.

         That's not the way Strider's worked. They saw a hot piece of ass, bought it a drink and went from there. You, however, haven't even uttered a sound. You're mouth is just hanging open with this incredibly dumb expression. You're sure your face has flushed red, which is not a good look for someone as pale as you are. Before you can even attempt to come back from your high school- level freak out, he bends over and literally throws up on the pavement.

        That gets you out of your daze.

        You step towards him, and reach out, and he proceeds to immediately slap it out of the way.

        "Shit man, what the fuck." You grumble as you pull your hand back, still leaning over the other man.

         Damn, you fucked up.

         Fix it.

= = > FUCK HIM

          You definately do not want to fuck him. You're too busy throwing up.

= = > Finish

           You're head snaps up, and to your surprise, he's gone. You thought the bleached blond douchebag would at least have the courtesy to see if you were okay. Then again, you had slapped his hand. And elbowed him unfairly hard.

           However, when you remember that your new dress shirt is being destroyed by his burning coffee of some sort you are actually glad you hit him and hope you managed to fuck his day up. You are also slightly disappointed that he is not here anymore. Because then you could punch him. Your knuckles meeting that dumb fucks unfairly gorgeuos cheekbones was practically orgasmic. You put your hands on your knees and allow yourself to breathe for a moment, as you realize that the encounter definately took someting out of you. A hand touches your shoulder, and you are so ready to just fuck this guy up tired or not and-

         Oh. It's Nepeta. "Are you okay Karkat?" she asks tentatively. You groan and nod, letting her guide you towards the entry. There would have been a time when you shrugged her off, but she's been your nurse since college, and in turn one of your best friends. You can't bring yourself to put on any sort of act in front of her.

         "One of your fucking piece of shit staff slammed right the fuck into me." You growl. She nods a nod of 'that sucks but theres nothing I can do' which you've been getting more often than usual. And it sucks.

          Not that there's anything you can do about it.

          You break away from her grasp when you enter the elevator, mumbling out a tired thanks. She nods, and begins talking about this cute girl she met that would be 'purrfect' for Feferi. You would generally be listening-this type of talk is right up your alley. However, today, you are out of it. The bubbly pitch of her voice sooths you, though. It helps you ignore the fact that you came here to die.

         "And she- Karkat? Karkitten, are you listening?"

         "Why the fuck would I be listening to the shitastic ramblings of a cuntlicker that belongs in some horrible Japanese clusterfuck?"

         "Don't be a veiny throbbing cock Karkitty."

         "That is really fucking specific footfucker."

         "Aww Karkitty, that wasn't one of your best." She does this sad face thing, and you swear to god there is going to be an explosion of bubbles and Kanji sound effects.

         "Fuck you."

         "You wish Karkitten." You scoff at that- she'd had a crush on you for three years, so you're pretty sure that was ass backwards. When the eleator makes that shrill "ding" she is back to talking about the girl she wants Feferi to hook up with. You also find yourself injecting your own input. By the time you get to the small, slate grey room, you have barely realized your impending doom. You don't realize that it is about time for her to stick a needle in your arm until you take off your sweater and are rolling up your sleeves and Nepeta asks you if you shit yourself. Your face flushes in righteous anger.

         "Fuck you, your scumbucket of a coworker spilled is caffenated sludge all over me!"

         "Sure. Just try not to get it all over the bed Karkat." You make sure to roll your eyes in the most noticeable way you can as you clamber onto the bed. You are once again reminded of how tiny you are. Nepeta is smaller than you, so it is possible for you to feel like a normal sized human being.  "Okay, Karkitty, I think we're all set. Let me just get the drugs, and you can start."

         All you can do is nod your head, and hell, this is worse than when you were diagnosed with cancer. When she leaves, you reach for your bag, looking for something, anything to keep you busy and realize that the homework you collected flew out your bag. Shit. You have maybe half of it. You might as welljust give everyone full credit. You really hate when shit like this happens, especially because some stupid fuck decides to not watch where he is going.

         Concentrating your energy on the things you are going to say if you ever see that bumbling sack of shit takes your mind off of the world long enough for Nepeta to come back and jam a needle in your arm. She turns on the television to BET where they are showing reruns of the Fresh Prince, and from that point on, you let Will Smith keep your mind occupied. You are relatively calm until the door is pushed in and someone yells "Vantas?"

         You spin around and begin affirming the statement when you see that the deep southern drawl belongs to the dipshit who ruined your day.

         FUCK.

= = > Gotta go fast

         You'd done some crazy shit(hah) but running around a hospital courtyard to pick up 68 pieces of paper was up there. You'd climbed a tree. You are most definitely late for your first shift ever when you get in. However, you have an extra hour to meet your patients before you get all up in their head later today. It gives you a chance to prepare your plan for fixing them.  Damn, if only you could be a therapist to yourself.  You look down at your schedule as you jog towards the elevator. Karkat? What the hell kind of name is that?

         You dash into an elevator being held by a petite nurse in olive scrubs. If her eyes were any glittery she'd be an anime character.

         "Shit, thanks." You force out when you enter the elevator. "Dave" You say, sticking ouot your hand. She takes it and shakes, surprising you with the death grip she has.

         "Nepeta. You must be the new guy!" She says brightly. You nod as you shake out your hands, hoping the bones will re-align. You won't be here very long if you keep coming in late." She says, and you can't tell if she's being playful, serious, or threatening.

         "Understood." You say, saluting her. She snickers in a way that is both adorable and devilish. Like a fucking cat. You were more of a bird person yourself. "Speaking of which, do you know where I can find Karkat Vantas?"

         "Room three-thirty five." Her eyes flicker towards the crinkled papers in your hand. "He can be a little crabby, but I'm sure he'll be extra nice to you."

         "Thank you very kindly." You say, as you churn out an exaggerated bow and exit the elevator, to which she practically dies of laughter. You have a good feeling about your time in the hospital.

          You open the door to room 335 with a smile, and call out "Vantas?". You don't recognize him immediately because of the lack of the sweater, but when he turns around and gets out "Ye-" before it turns into a mangled growl, you know exactly who this is. And hell if that smile doesn't drop from your face faster than Egderp dropped out of coding 101.

          He looks like he wants to kill you. For a moment you brace yourself before realizing that he has a needle in his arm, and realizing he's not going to hit you. Untill he throws his shoes at you. Well, to be honest, it was a single shoe. It bounces off the door behind you, because you're a fucking ninja. How many times do you have to say that.

          Before he can scream at you, you push out the papers you are holding towards him as some sort of shield.

= = > Be awestruck

[ ](http://s1224.photobucket.com/user/Ninjarocker909/media/bitter2edit.png.html)

         "What the hell is that?" You ask, seething both because you can't hit him(fucking cancer) and because you are genuinly confused.

         "The shit that flew out of your bag." he says, shortly. "Damn, I'm so fucking sorry, I wasn't looking and, jsut, fuck, I'm sorry man." He hands you your papers, and you honestly don't know what the fuck to do. "Or should I say **_Linda Blaire_**?" Fuck it, you know exactly what to do.

= = > Tackle the fucker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is up, sorry it took so long. I have no excuses, I am just being a piece of shit.  
> I hope there are no errors, if there are, feel free to point them out to me, and I'll fix it. Hope you like the art.  
> I want to have the next two chapters out before April 13th, and one ON the thirteenth, so I'm working on it.  
> Just saying, it might happen, it might not.  
> If you have any questions, or shit, hit me up on tumblr. I'm rarely on here(logged in, at least), so, yeah.  
> Happy april fools day, have a great time, don't be a dick, and I hope you get rick rolled.


	4. Give him a chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's surprisingly strong for a Cancer patient.

= = > Lick your wounds

           First of all, he didn't hit you that hard, and second of all, thats hella gross. However, if you were a dog, maybe you would be inclined to do so. You let your fingers brush across the purple-ing bruise on your cheek, and smile. It can never be said that Karkat Vantas doesn't pack a punch. If you weren't a Strider, you would even say you were regretting your Exorcist related remark.

           But, you _are_ a Strider, so fuck that noise.

           He'd pounced on you like some sort of wild animal. You were surprised, which is the only reason why he got a shot in. Two shots, actually. Shut up.

           However, here in the safety of your small, grey office, you realize that if you were being honest, Karkat Vantas was a bit of a badass. He was terrifyingly strong for such a short person, and surprisingly agile for one in a hospital. You admit, it was the best fight you'd had in years.

           Then again, the last fight you'd had...well, it wasn't much of a fight at all.

           You let out a shuddered breath and let your palms rest on the wooden desk, clutching the hard, cool surface. You're not stupid enough to realize that you have done bad things to good peolple, good people who didn't beat the shit out of you when you had a particularly bad episode. People who ended up in the hospital because they were trying not to hurt you. Dwelling, on them, though, was not going to make it any better, and might even set another 'bad thing' into motion.

           When you regain composure you glance at your watch. You're next appointment is late. Not surprising. Your next patient was the aforementioned violently inclined black haired man, and since he'd pulled the needle out of his arm as he attacked you, they'd had to start all over. Apparently, this was not the first time he'd attacked one of the staff, so they ignored your participation in the event. Not that they even knew you were there. You'd flipped him on his back and got the fuck out of there before the anime nurse came rushing in.

           He hadn't had the chance to chase you down the hall.

           Thank god.

           Still,you, happy for this time, though, you've forgotten how much therapist-ing can take out of you. You're not sure how Rose managed it in high school. Ahh, good old Rose. She'd dropped out of college(surprisingly- everyone thought it was going to be you, even if they didn't say it) and into the arms of a publisher that made her millions. It dawns on you how impossibly successful your family turned out to be. Except for you. You shake the thought out of you're head and pull out your old, shitty tracphone. Before annoying the shit out of your cousin(sister?? who knows), you delete all the texts you've received from any of your brothers. They'd understand.

           DAVE: rose

           DAVE: rose

           DAVE: rose lalonde

           DAVE: my cornflower vixen

           DAVE: my sister from another mister

           DAVE: chick thinking bout wizard dick

           ROSE: I assure you I was not thinking about a penis.

           ROSE: Not everyone is you Dave.

           DAVE: oh you cut me deep

           DAVE: right in the artery

           DAVE: im bleeding out all over this carpet that looks like a mixture between pea soup and shit

           DAVE: get the paramedics

           ROSE: I have it on good authority that you are far closer to the paramedics than I.

           DAVE: hush sweet thing

           DAVE: dont worry yourself over the details

           ROSE: Where exactly is this going?

           DAVE: to the hospital hopefully

           ROSE: Please Dave, do something else, I am busy.

           DAVE: like hell you are

           DAVE: wait is that girl there

           DAVE: the hot one

           DAVE: that speaks like you

           DAVE: and who you are totally fucking

           DAVE: with the green lipstick

           DAVE: and the ass that wont quit

           DAVE: im not obectifying

           DAVE: this is a direct quote

           DAVE: from your mouth

           DAVE: even though she does have a nice ass

           DAVE: not that i was looking

           DAVE: i was totally looking

           DAVE: its like the beacon in the darkness for all of us seedy mothy fucks are drawn to

           DAVE: only to later be fried by her sexuality

           DAVE: im pretty sure that was offensive

           DAVE: dont put this on tumblr

           DAVE: rose what the hell are you still there

           ROSE: Hush sweet thing, don't worry yourself over the details.

           DAVE: rose she better not be there now

           DAVE: rose if you let her read this i will never forgive you

           DAVE: rose stop

           DAVE: i can feel her judging me

           DAVE: she better not kill me over this

           DAVE: i know she has a chainsaw

           DAVE: you sent me a picture rose

           DAVE: you cant let your brother die

           ROSE: She isn't here Dave, and has not seen this increasingly stupid string of texts.

           DAVE: thank god

           ROSE: Yet.

           DAVE: what the fucks that supposed to mean

           ROSE: That when she enters my home in approximately thirty-two minutes, she will have a hilarious annectdote ready for her, backed up with this conversation.

           ROSE: I'm sure she'll be delighted.

           DAVE: for fucks sake

           DAVE: doctor patient confidentiality

           DAVE: what youre doing is unethical

           ROSE: If I am not mistaken, I am not a doctor, as you so often remind me.

           DAVE: once at christmas let it go

           DAVE: let it go

           DAVE: cant hold you back anymore

           ROSE: You're just making it worse for yourself.

           DAVE: noted

           ROSE: Speaking of making it worse for yourself, when was the last time you gave our brother a call?

           DAVE: jesus

           DAVE: which one          

           ROSE: Any one.

           DAVE: i dunno

           DAVE: a couple of weeks

           ROSE: A month and a half Dave.

           DAVE: is that not a couple of weeks

           ROSE: That's not important Dave.

           DAVE: i think it is

           DAVE: but whatever

           DAVE: its not like the doctor knows best

           ROSE: You are not a doctor, Dave, you do not have a doctorate.

           ROSE: And do not avoid the question. I have been at this a lot longer than you.

           DAVE: well obviously youre a better shrink

           DAVE: than writer

           ROSE: Dave.

           DAVE: what???

           DAVE: you don't start a sentence with and

           DAVE: damn woman

           ROSE: Dave.

           DAVE:. . .

           DAVE: fine

           DAVE: i dont want to fucking talk to them okay

           DAVE: davids off doing his shit

           DAVE: you know

           DAVE: making movies and fuck all

           DAVE: to finance my life

           DAVE: dirk is busy being better than me

           DAVE: and derrick

           DAVE: derricks just derrick

           ROSE:. . .

           ROSE: You used to call him 'bro'.

           DAVE: what???

           ROSE: Derrick, you used to call him 'bro'.

           DAVE: well times changed

           DAVE: jesus fuck accept it

           ROSE: . . .

           ROSE: I am assuming there was some point to your invasion of my peace.

           DAVE: yeah damn forgot about that

           DAVE: i was messing with one of the patients today

           ROSE: Good God Dave, it's your first day.

           DAVE: not on purpose

           DAVE: at first

           ROSE: At first? Dave, what have you done.

           DAVE: i ran into him on the way in

           DAVE: which was not my fault

           DAVE: he was juts standing there

           ROSE: May I presume that your eyes were closed.

           DAVE: dont presume anything

           DAVE: so i knocked him over

           DAVE: hes tiny so he went down easy

           DAVE: like Roxy in highschool

           ROSE: Cold Dave.

           DAVE: hush

           DAVE: the coffee spilled on him

           DAVE: which kinda made it look like he shit himself

           DAVE: and his papers went flying every which way but loose

           DAVE: strike that

           DAVE: they were loose

           DAVE: very loose

           ROSE: I hope you retrieved them with your "ninja" skills, Dave.

           DAVE: i did

           DAVE: what do you take me for

           DAVE: he threw up though

           DAVE: it was gross as hell

           ROSE:. . .

           DAVE: this is relevant

           DAVE: i swear

           ROSE: It goes on?

           DAVE: yes

           DAVE: i gave him his papers back

           DAVE: when i was checking up on my patients

           DAVE: and called him linda blaire

           DAVE: and then he tackled me

           ROSE: You can't hear it, but I am audibly sighing.

           DAVE: is that what that sound is

           DAVE: i thought it was the heater

           DAVE: anyway hes coming in in a minute

           DAVE: and i have no fucking clue what to do

           ROSE:. . .

           ROSE: I would suggest you apologize, sincerely and vehemently.

           ROSE: But, of course, I know you won't.

           ROSE: So I cannot help past the obvious recommendation of not antagonizing him any further.

           DAVE: shit i gotta go

           ROSE: Good luck brother, and in case of your death, farewell.

            You flip your phone shut as the door creaks open. It slams into what can vaguely be described as a couch- a couch that blocks the door making it so you have to squeeze into the room. It is a lot like your room at the house, now that you think about it. You brace yourself as you hear the gutteral growl of "FUCK" ring through the small room.

           This was going to be fun.

= = > This fucking door

            You are angry, violently so. However, two well placed, hopefully bone-cracking blows had fixed that for you.

            For the most part, anyway. You hadn't expected him to be so strong.

            After your second hit, the blond-haired fucktard flipped you over with ease and pinned you. You try to block out the crooked smirk that spread across his face, and for some unknown reason made your heart flutter, his glasses still miraculously in place. The fact that this was the second time in a single day that some blonde haired cum guzzler got you beneath him was a little bit disturbing, though. Before you could even spew something malicious from your lips, he was off of you and out the door.

            Fucking pussy.

            Nepeta came crashing in moments after he left, scared that you'd had a heart attack- you made a mental note never to rip yourself free of the heart moniter again- the fury in which she looked at you when you admitted to jumping free was not something you ever wanted to see again. She got Eridan from the hallway and they lambasted you together. It was incredible.

             You were going to wake up with kitty litter in the bathtub again, you just know it.

            The papers that had flown out of your bag and that now were laying on the small desk next to you let you take your mind off that for a while. Still, all you asked from these kids was sentences and you got phrases about Kurt Hummel from glee. Fucking public school.

            However, even with all of this, when you squeeze through the door that is jammed on and gaze upon the shrink Serket claimed would do wonders for you, you are too drained to fight. Really, the little blond shitstain should be thanking his lucky stars that Chemo made you feel like shit.

           "What." Is all you can ekk out. He nods towards you, as if to say "haha, yeah, welcome to hell" that stupid smirk spreading his face in a smooth, fine line. You look at the slip of paper the good Dr. Serket gave you and realize that, yes, you are in the right place.

            Fuck.

           "You're not my doctor." You say with finality. You don't have it in you to yell. In fact, a nice nap on the couch seems in order, but no- you're not staying.

           "Dave Strider MD, thats me." He says. Or rather, he rhymes.

           "No. NO. Fuck you!" Maybe you do have it in you to yell.

           "You wish Karkat Vantas."

           "Shut the fuck up." You plop onto the hideous deep red couch-oh, that's very good. "And don't say my name, your accent fucks it up." He looks at you, and you can only assume behind those thick aviators lies a quirked eyebrow. " It's Karkat Vantas, not 'Kawrkit Vanus.'"

           "It wasn't that bad."

           "It was."

           "Kahr-Kat Van-tus." You snort. "I've never heard that name before."

           "Karkat, it's from the tropical Zodiac. Karkatta is the star sign I was born on."

           "Sounds like a Pokeman."

           "That's Ratatta you uncultured fuck and please tell me you were joking with that..." You trail off as his lips pull upwards again. "WHAT."

            "No, it's fine, continue, I was ten once too." You swear these cushions are magical, because they're just sucking the will to flip him off right out of you. So soft, and plush, sucking you right in. The room swirls in the best way, your vision becoming hazy. You hear a distant snap and jerk up, not even realizing that you were falling asleep.

            "Shit. I just." You shrug off the rest of the sentence groggily. He nods. "Doesn't matter, we've got plenty of time."

            "Great, now you get to judge me, see if I'm worthy to continue a anti-depressent free existent."

             "I can judge you, yes" He starts as he climbs over his desk to reach the chair crammed into the corner beside the couch, "In fact it's my job. But I won't any more than I need too, because I'm not a dick." You cock your head to the side. "Okay, so perhaps I'm a dick. But I'm not that much of a dick.  He falls ungracefully into the chair.

            "So, what are we in for, Kit Kat?"

             "If I weren't so tired I'd put my foot up your ass." You growl after a few beats of silence. You were going to get a new shrink by tomorrow if it killed you, and you say as much.

             "I'm sure you would." He crosses his legs, and fuck if you aren't gazing longingly at the way his pants crease across his leg muscles as he does so.

             "Consequently, that doesn't answer my question." You roll onto your back and stare at the ceiling, concentrating on a spot where the word 'gullible' is written.

             "The word gullible is on the ceiling."

             "I know, I put it there."

             "Why would you waste your time with that?"

             "Psycho-analysis."

             "Sure." You stare at the word again.

             "You're not from around here, are you."

             "No, what the hell does that have to do with anything?" You decide to humor him.

             "C'mon, satiate my curiosity Kitkat." You roll your eyes.

              "South Bronx."

              "You're a long way from home. Why'd you leave?"

              "I got into college here."

              "Oh?"

              "Yeah. It was hard finding a good school that would accept a GED."

              "You dropped out of High school?"

              "Yeah, I didn't have time for it."

              "A lot of kids feel that way, but they don't drop out."

              "No, you cranberry fucknugget, it wasn't an opinion, it was a fact."

               "I don't think your parent's would agree," he snorts. You think back to when you told your parents you were dropping out- 5 years and you still remember it like it happened yesterday.

               "They didn't mind. In fact they agreed with me."

               "I call bullshit."   

               "Shut the fuck up, it's complicated."

               "Not really, you got tired of it, and you dropped out. You were living the teenage dream."

               "FUCK YOU, THATS NOT WHAT HAPPENED!" Suddenly the fire is right beneath your skin again, you can feel it boiling your blood, forcing your muscles to tense into a white-knuckled ball. You take a deep breath, and let out a small sigh. " IT'S MORE...complicated, than that, you know?" The good doctor leans in slightly, all trace of the jokester gone and replaced by a startlingly serious visage. This is the first time you find yourself imagining what lay behind those tinted aviators.

               "No, I don't know. So why don't you tell me."

               "Chronic Lymphocitic Leukemia." you grind out. "I was seventeen."

               "You have to tell people things,  Vantas."

                "No shit Sherlock."  He shakes his head.

                "You have to tell them the _important_ stuff, not just rage about the trivial inconveniences of life or no one will ever understand what you want and/or need.  Unlike most of us, you don't have time to come into your own, so start speaking up _quickly_. And don't yell for Christs sake.  Calm the fuck down."  He scribbles something into the yellow legal pad on his lap when you don't say anything.  "You said you were seventeen?"

               "Yes."

               "Then why didn't you just graduate? You only had a year left."

               "Chronic Lymphocitic Leukemia kills you in 10 years- 12 if your lucky. I didn't have time to waste - even one and a half years. I had time to pick one dream and achieve it." You mumble.

               "And what was it?" He asks, the playful tone leaking into the serious one and setting you at ease.

               "Teaching."

               "And are you a teacher?"

               "Yes. I got hired last year." You let out a small huff. "It's lucky too."

               "How so."

               "Because my death, by order of everything that is shitty on this godforsaken rock that will inevitably be swallowed up by the sun, has been moved up. By about five years."

               "So, Karkat Vantas, are you ready to die?" It takes you more than a moment to compose yourself enough for some sort of answer.

               "WHAT THE HELL KINDA QUESTION IS THAT!?!?!?" You scream. He doesn't even flinch. God you wish you could hit him again.

               "Did you not understand?"

                "I think I GOT THE FUCKING GIST!"

               "Good, than answer me. You chose one dream. You achieved it. Are you ready to die?" The question hits you like a ton of bricks. You'd thought about death daily. Death was always a part of you- you were dying after all. But not in this context. You had gotten everything you'd ever wanted from life, so were you ready to die?

               "Yes." You whisper after a pregnant pause.  It was the logical answer. "I think I am. I have everything right? I'm happier than most people ever get to be in their lives, so I think I'm okay with dying. I'm ready," you rationalize.  He stares at you for a moment(or at least you assume he stares at you, you can't see through those shades for shit).

               "Okay. I think we're done for the day.  I also think you're lying through your teeth, but we can address that on Wednesday."

               "What? That's it?!?! I was only in here for a minute!"  You take a deep breath." And what the hell am I lying about?"

               "You slept for a good forty five minutes Kitkat." You were taken aback- why would he let you sleep? What the hell kind of therapist was this guy?

               "You said we had plenty of time."

               "Things change Karkat." Flustered by the correct use of your name, you get off of the couch as he stands up. "Here."He says as he hands you a neatly printed business card. " My number's on here. Call me when you decide to tell me the truth."

               "Yeah sure." You grumble as you snatch the paper out of his hand.

               "Oh and Linda Blaire?" He says, as you turn to leave. Seething, you manage to let out a marginally threatening

               "What." "The word gullible is written on the ceiling." Your eyes flicker up towards the red word on the icy white ceiling.

               "Yeah I know dipshit." You walk out and don't look back. You take a look at the bent rectangle of stock paper, and when your eyes glide across the red 'Dave Strider: Shrink Extraordinaire' in Comic Sans.  You decide in  the midst of your muffled chuckle that maybe, just _maybe,_ you didn't have to find a new doctor just yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait guys. I write and draw for a living, so a lot of the time, when I get to this I'm really just sick of doing anything. At all.  
> Anyway, continuing, this chapter and the next chapter will not have illustrations. Really, it's just a lot of texting about stuff that seriously needs to remain un-drawn. You'll see what I mean soon enough. The chapter after the next one has three or four, though, so if you're here for my shitty art, please just hang in there.  
> I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, and the sudden appearance of a Lalonde. She'll be in more chapters moving forward.  
> Alrighty, I have to get back to work. I'll update soon, I swear.  
> I hope you all had a good 4/13 by the way. I mean, how could you not. Paradox space made everyone's day.  
> Oh and Easter. I guess it's important that you had a good Easter too.  
> Feel free to comment or critique, and if you see any grammar or spelling errors, it would be cool of you to tell me.  
> C'yah next time.


	5. The Rules of Engagement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betty White's Vagina.

= = >Play baseball

                For you, life came in threes. 

                Three years of highschool.  Three years of college.  Three cousins. 

                Most importantly,three strikes. 

                You were notoriously anal about that last one.  It wasn't astonishing in the least.  You'd grown up a train ride away from Yankee Stadium- it was no surprise that you incorporated baseball into your daily life.  It's just the way it was.  Three strikes and you were out.

                Dave Strider had two when you walked into your fourth appointment with him.  By the time you got into the door, it was three.

                "What the FUCK is that noise?!"  You yelled, referring to the breathtakingly, agonizing noice emanating from the laptop shoved into the corner of the cluttered desk.

                "Skrillex."  he says.  As if that's okay.  As if that's a proper answer.

                "No, no, turn that shit off."

                "Nope.   In fact, Vantas, this is going to be our theme song of the day."  You'd left on principal.

                Three strikes and your out.

                That was the rule.

                Which was why you couldn't explain why-three hours ago- you were in his office, at the end of your fifth appointment, thrusting a USB filled to the brim with music into his hand.

                "That shit you listen to is not music."

                "I'm pretty damn sure-"

                "No."  You growled, folding his pale sinewy fingers roughly over the black plastic stick.   "This is not up for debate.  Listen to this."  You'd gracelessly slammed your knee into the wall on the way out, but refused to let it deter your hasty exit.

                However, what was even more confusing was the fact that you couldn't sleep.  You were actually wondering if he would like the songs you gave to him.  You were questioning if someone could dislike Celia Crus.  And Otis Redding.  And Run DMZ.  If he did he was dead to you.

                But you couldn't help but wonder. It was this curiosity that was forcing you to dig through all your dirty clothing for his card. 

                When you finally come across the crumpled piece of stock paper you shoot up in triumph, which, unfortunately, ends with you spending a half an hour on your knees in the bathroom.  You were going to have to get used to that at some point.

                During your time spent by the porcelain structure you decide on texting him.  You'd  decided it was too late to call him- it was nearly 12:00 at night.  You had subsequently decided that during the next hour you spent with him, you would bring up the way you hadn't been able to go to sleep before 4 am for the last week, despite being tired as hell.

                You'd thought about emailing him, but you'd seen his phone- he'd need to be on a computer for immediate gratification on your part, so you decided on texting.  You don't know why you're obsessing over this like a fifteen year old girl.  It's a little disturbing.

                KARKAT: DID YOU LISTEN TO IT YET SHITHEAD

                For the minute that he doesn't text you back, you nearly have a heart attack.  Was this too personal?  Was it creepy?  What if he only gave you his number for emergencies?  He never said so, so maybe this was okay?   Was it too brash?  Who even calls anyone a 'shithead' anymore?  God you were stupid.  Fuck.

                Finally, after what seems like an eternity(but in reality is only 64 seconds) you hear the ping of your phone.  You realize that you have been hanging upside down off your couch, which hasn't happened since you'd called Terezi for the first time.

                DAVE: damn

                DAVE: its a text and your still yellin at me

                DAVE: at least im assuming its you

                DAVE: that you shouty???

                KARKAT: MY NAME IS NOT SHOUTY DUMBASS.  AND YOU DIDN'T ANSWER MY GOD DAMN QUESTION.

                DAVE: calm down shouty mcshoutpants

                DAVE: also

                DAVE: dont start sentences with and

                DAVE: its bad grammar

                DAVE: aren’t you an english teacher???

                KARKAT:GO FUCK A CACTUS

                STRIDER: naah man thats animal abuse or some shit

                KARKAT: A CACTUS IS NOT AN ANIMAL

                STRIDER: shit

                STRIDER: thats why i failed first grade isnt it

                KARKAT: NO, YOU FAILED IT BECAUSE YOU ARE A JUNGLE HUMPING WRITHING SHITTING FUCK ON A MOUNTAIN OF PURE STUPID.

                STRIDER: damn your english degree is showing

                STRIDER: maybe i will take my

                STRIDER: shitty fuckitude somewhere else english teacher

                STRIDER: fuckitude??? fucktitude???

                STRIDER: thats not the point

                STRIDER: im out

                KARKAT: NO, PLEASE I’M SORRY

                STRIDER: i really hope that was sarcasm

                STRIDER: cuz if not

                STRIDER: get a drink of water

                STRIDER: cuz you thirsty

                KARKAT: I JUST WANTED TO KNOW IF YOU LISTENED TO THE GOD DAMNED MUSIC.

                DAVE: jesus english teacher

                DAVE: calm yourself

                DAVE: but yes

                DAVE: i listened to some of it

                DAVE: kinda got stuck on that one al green one

                KARKAT: WHICH ONE?  THERE'S A FUCKTON ON THERE.

                DAVE: doesnt matter

                DAVE: and why is none of your music from this century

                DAVE: its sorta like betty whites vagina up in here

                KARKAT: FIRST OF ALL WHAT THE FUCK.

                DAVE:. . .

                KARKAT: THERE WAS NO SECOND OF ALL.

                DAVE: okay check it out

                DAVE: so betty white is fucking ancient

                DAVE: and yet somehow attractive

                KARKAT: YEAH, IF YOUR ATTRACTED TO YOUR GRANDMOTHER.

                DAVE: johns grandma is kinda hot

                KARKAT: THATS FUCKING NASTY

                DAVE: hey id totally put the joy viper in that

                KARKAT: THE WHAT?

                DAVE: the powerful porn jackhammer

                DAVE: the turgid pants brisket

                DAVE: the oily pork catapult

                DAVE: the infinite beef dagger

                KARKAT: EITHER YOUR TALKING ABOUT FOOD OR YOUR DICK.

                DAVE: my dick

                DAVE: i am most definitely discussing my dick

                DAVE: for some people

                DAVE: though

                DAVE: it might be both

                KARKAT: NOT A CLEVER EUPHEMISM FOR A BLOWJOB.

                KARKAT: GOD, A BLOWJOB SHOULD NEVER FEEL LIKE YOU'RE BEING EATEN.  THAT'S JUST WRONG.

                DAVE: hey

                DAVE: jizz is loaded with nutrients

                DAVE: so excuse you

                KARKAT: OKAY  I DON'T THINK THIS 'JOHN' GUY WOULD APPRECIATE YOU TALKING ABOUT WANTING TO FACE FUCK HIS ABUELA.

                DAVE: first of all

                DAVE: i would not face fuck nana egbert

                DAVE: you have to treat a lady like that right

                DAVE: foreplay and all

                DAVE: you were the one who brought up blowjobs

                KARKAT: NO I DIDN'T.  I SPECIFICALLY REMEMBER YOU REFERRING TO YOUR COCK AS FOOD DIPSHIT.

                DAVE: shhh

                DAVE: dont interrupt

                DAVE: its rude as fuck man

                DAVE: and second of all

                DAVE: no

                DAVE: no he does not

                DAVE: im pretty sure im gonna wake up to a shitton of emails

                DAVE: all of them about how i was talking about wanting to fuck his grandma again

                KARKAT: HOW WOULD HE EVEN *KNOW* IDIOT?

                DAVE: dork senses

                DAVE: and i feel like we were talking about betty white

                KARKAT: YES, WE WERE SPEAKING ABOUT HOW MY *FANTASTIC* PLAYLIST EQUATES TO HER DUSTY VAGINA.

                DAVE: are you saying betty white isnt getting any???

                KARKAT: I'M SAYING SHE'S 100 AND SHOULDN'T BE FOR HEALTH REASONS.

                DAVE: hey

                DAVE: news flash

                DAVE: shes fucking 91

                DAVE: january 17th 1922

                DAVE: get it together

                KARKAT: OKAY I CONCEDE, SHE'S 8 YEARS YOUNGER THAN A *CENTURY*.  LORD FORGIVE ME FOR I HAVE SINNED.

                DAVE: yeah you have

                DAVE: she doesnt look a hundred

                DAVE: not a day over sixty

                DAVE: totally in the fuckable range

                KARKAT: YOU CAN'T SERIOUSLY BE THINKING ABOUT FUCKING BETTY WHITE.

                DAVE: where you tuned out of this  conversation or something

                DAVE: yes i think about fucking betty white

                DAVE: often

                DAVE: as if you dont

                KARLAT: AS MUCH AS I WOULD LIKE TO HEAR ABOUT YOUR DREAM OF BEING RIDDEN BY A 92 YEAR OLD, THIS IS NOT WHAT I SIGNED UP FOR.

                DAVE: god english teacher

                DAVE: dont you know how to treat a woman like betty white???

                DAVE: you dont make her ride you

                DAVE: shes a fucking senior citizen

                DAVE: have you no decency

                KARKAT: WELL HOW THE HELL WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW?  I DON'T THINK ABOUT FUCKING OLD PEOPLE.

                DAVE: ehhh

                DAVE: ill give you a pass

                DAVE: but judging by bro

                DAVE: *derrick*

                DAVE: its a strider thing anyway

                KARKAT: A STRIDER THING? EXPLAIN YOU BLUBBERING SHITMOUTH.

                DAVE: shitmouth?? 

                DAVE: wow okay

                DAVE: and yes its a strider thing

                DAVE: maybe a strider/lalonde thing

                KARKAT: WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT.

                DAVE: my immediate and extended  family

                DAVE: which may or may not be the same thing

                DAVE: its confusing as fuck

                KARKAT: HOW IS FAMILY CONFUSING?

                DAVE:...

                KARKAT: I MEAN RELATIONSHIP WISE.

                DAVE:...

                KARKAT: FUCK YOU, YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN.

                DAVE: okay let me break it down for you

                DAVE: and im only gonna do this shit once

                DAVE: i have could have 3 brothers

                DAVE: 4 sisters

                DAVE:3 cousins

                DAVE:  1 father

                DAVE: 1 uncle

                DAVE: possibly 2

                DAVE: 2 aunts

                DAVE: maybe 1 mom

                DAVE: but only 7 relatives

                DAVE: 4 of which

                DAVE: including myself

                DAVE: could have a twin

                KARKAT: WHAT

                DAVE: whats the matter teach

                DAVE: did i break you

                KARKAT: LET ME FINISH.  IT IS VERY IMPORTANT THAT I FINISH.

                DAVE: sorry

                DAVE: go on

                KARKAT: THE

                KARKAT: ACTUAL

                KARKAT: FUCK

                DAVE: like i said

                DAVE: confusing

                KARKAT: OR JUST INBREEDING.

                DAVE: i doubt that

                DAVE: but how would i know

                DAVE: actually

                DAVE: it might explain a few things

                KARKAT: THAT’S WEIRD AS HELL

                DAVE: hey

                DAVE: just because we don't have your nuclear family

                DAVE: doesnt make us weird

                DAVE: confusing

                DAVE: yes

                DAVE: but also cool as shit

                KARKAT: ITS WEIRD

                DAVE: like your family isnt even a little freaky

                DAVE: and maybe inbred

                KARKAT: I HAVE A MEXICAN DAD AND A GERMAN MOM.  I THINK NOT.

                DAVE: never would have pegged you for half german

                KARAKT: THAT'S SOME SORT OF RACIST.  BUT NO, MY BIOLOGICAL MOM'S NOT GERMAN. 

                DAVE: then why even say it

                KARKAT: SHE'S THE ONLY MOTHER I'VE EVER KNOWN YOU STUPID FUCK, SO SHE'S MY MOM.

                DAVE: calm down

                DAVE: is she evil

                DAVE: are you cinderella

                DAVE: holy shit am i your prince

                DAVE: on my white horse

                DAVE: and tights

                DAVE: that totally flatters my legs

                KARKAT: NO, TIGHTS SHOULD BE OUTLAWED.  AND MY MOM IS TOO GOOD FOR ALL OF US. SHE'S SWEET AS HELL.

                DAVE: tights are hella rad

                DAVE: you should see my halloween get up

                DAVE: its unironically skintight

                KARKAT: I DON’T GIVE A SHIT.

                DAVE: fine

                DAVE: whatever

                DAVE: any sibling/cousins???

                KARKAT: NO.  TWO BROTHERS AND A FEW CLOSE COUSINS.  WE LIKE TO KEEP THOSE CATEGORIES SEPARATE IN THE REAL WORLD.

                DAVE: cold

                DAVE: are their names as fucked as yours???

                DAVE: i cant remember it right now

                DAVE: but it is most certainly a fucked k name

                DAVE: karkatta or something

                KARKAT: KAR-KAT.  MY NAME IS NOT FUCKED ASSFACE.  NEITHER ARE KANKRI'S AND KANAYA'S.

                DAVE: holy shit

                DAVE: karkat kankri and kanaya               

                DAVE: did you ever

                DAVE: get called

                KARKAT: DON'T SAY IT STRIDER

                DAVE: okay calm down

                DAVE: jesus

                DAVE: if i can't say it you have to

                KARKAT: FINE, YES, WE CALLED OURSELVES THE 'KKK' IN PRESCHOOL.  WE WERE KIDS.  WE DIDN'T KNOW PEOPLE WERE PIECES OF SHIT.

                DAVE: hah

                DAVE: i know you cant tell

                DAVE: but im just about going to piss myself

                KARKAT: SHUT THE FUCK UP DICKWEED.

                DAVE: okay

                DAVE: im good

                DAVE: what about the third cousin/brother

                DAVE: they have a K name too?

                KARKAT: NO, *SILAS* DOES NOT HAVE A K NAME.  AND HE'S MY BROTHER.  KANAYA'S A GIRL'S NAME SHIT FOR BRAINS.              

                DAVE: how the fuck was i supposed to know

                DAVE: plus

                DAVE: you said cousins anyway

                DAVE: like more then one

                DAVE: god

                DAVE: you never even specified that your cousins were female

                DAVE: does no one but me know how to speak

                DAVE: and at least his name is semi normal

                KARKAT: DON'T START SENTENCES WITH AND.

                DAVE: haha

                DAVE: quoting me back to me

                DAVE: like a smart ass

                DAVE: your definitely the youngest

                KARKAT: NO, TRY AGAIN FUCKFACE.  SILAS IS THE YOUNGEST.

                DAVE: middle child then??

                KARKAT: YEAH.  YOU?

                DAVE: youngest

                DAVE: by like 3 seconds

                DAVE: hows your fam handling the death thing

                KARKAT: DON'T SAY FAM.  AND BETTER THAN MOST I GUESS?  THEY'VE HAD A LOT OF TIME TO GET USED TO IT.  I MEAN, SILAS HAS GOTTEN REALLY RELIGIOUS RECENTLY- STARTED DRAGGING MY ABUELA TO CHURCH AND SHIT.  AND KANAYA...I'M WORRIED ABOUT HER, YOU KNOW?

                DAVE: don’t start sentences with and

                KARKAT: I SWEAR TO GOD STRIDER

                DAVE: haha

                DAVE: explain the kanaya thing to me

                KARKAT: SHE'S OUR COLLECTIVE MOM, OKAY?  WHEN WE NEED PARENTING AND OUR PARENTS AREN'T AROUND, SHE'S THERE.  EXCEPT SHE NEEDS HELP SOMETIMES TOO.  AND THAT'S MY JOB.  WHO'S GOING TO HELP HER IF I'M NOT THERE?  HER NEW GIRLFRIEND THAT SHE'S KNOWN FOR ALL OF FIVE MINUTES?

                DAVE: okay

                DAVE: i sense a little jealousy

                KARKAT: OF COURSE I'M JEALOUS.  KANAYA'S GIRLFRIEND GETS TO LIVE.  SHE'LL PROBABLY REPLACE ME AS KANAYA'S TOP CONFIDANT.  BUT I'M MORE WORRIED THAN JEALOUS, OR WERE YOU NOT LISTENING.

                DAVE: no

                DAVE: i got it

                DAVE: so what are you going to do

                KARKAT: REFER HER TO A GOOD THERAPIST.  KNOW ANY?

                DAVE: damn

                DAVE: you didnt just burn me

                DAVE: you set me on fire

                DAVE: and i gotta go

                DAVE: got a patient coming in

                KARKAT: YOU'RE STILL WORKING?

                DAVE: yeah

                DAVE: this train runs until 5 AM

                KARKAT: I SHOULD HAVE JUST CALLED.

                DAVE: what???

                KARKAT: NOTHING. FUCK YOU, GOODNIGHT.

                You shut your phone off and head into your small, but impeccably cleaned bedroom and flop onto your bed.  The fact that it was plushier than a thousand bunnies was definitely the reason why you passed out as soon as your head hit the pillow. That's what you tell yourself, at least.

                When you wake up to the sound of your alarm, and turn your phone on to ten new messages from Strider you pretend that your heart doesn't jump.

                DAVE: wait

                DAVE: shit

                DAVE: damn you went to bed fast

                DAVE: i didnt even get to tell you

                DAVE: why they were like betty whites vagina

                DAVE: dammit

                DAVE: thanks though

                DAVE: ill use some of them

                DAVE: for my next set

                DAVE: good night english teacher              

                You tell yourself that the heat that rushes to your face is just from you sitting up.  You're getting very tired of telling yourself shit.

= = >Be in your office when you should be asleep

                You were a grown ass man, you could do what you want, even if that meant sitting in your office an hour after your last patient left.  The reason was simple.  You are worried.  And flabbergasted.  But mostly worried.

                You, Dave Strider, are worried for many reasons.  For your family.  For your friends.  For yourself.  But also for a particular short, black haired English teacher. 

                And that worried you most of all.

                You let the eraser of the pencil you are currently holding rest in your mouth.  You have seen a lot of death.  When you were a kid, you collected dead things and put them in jars.  You’d buried your fair share of loved ones, and you were bound to put more in the ground before you got there yourself.

                But the death of the English teacher whose name you didn't even remember(and why didn’t you remember his name, you’d heard it a million and one times)?  This one irked you.  A lot.  If you weren't a Strider, you would even say it caused you a burning pain like no other.

                Damn, your bro was right, you were so soft.  You let this guy you knew for a whole week into your shitty little heart.  And it hurt. 

                It didn’t help that he was easy on the eyes, either.         

                But this isn’t a Disney movie.  You met with him three times a week, for one hour a piece and that was that.  You don’t just become best friends over night.  You just don’t.

                But while you were feelings jamming with yourself, you might as well be honest.  He had you at the first ‘fuck you’.

                Then again, this wasn't the first time you’d spent the grumpy English teacher.  Earlier today, when he was in, you realized you did recognize his voice.  It’s not so much that you were paying close attention to the sound, but the shrill, nasally tone with a hint of an accent was something one came across every day.  You’d caught glimpses of him and the aforementioned sound in college, back when he had been the English student.  You went to the same school- Alternia State(nicknamed ‘the meteor’ for the unbearable heat it was kept at and the way the subway seemed to make the ground shake)- so it wasn't surprising that you saw him a few times.  He’d also been Terezi’s friend, or something.  You were pretty sure they were fucking- probably when she was dating you.  Not that you’d minded.  Really, you and Terezi made great friends, and even when you were dating, you were just great friends.  There was no romantic love at all.  Soon enough, you guys went back to playing Assassin’s Creed and cuddling platonically on your shitty dorm couch, and you never saw or heard him again.

                Now you’re finding yourself wishing you had.

                You get up, frustrated with your own shit, grab your laptop and jump onto the couch.  You did that in front of that Ampora guy and he nearly combusted.  That boy had a stick shoved too far up his ass.

                You jump on Facebook and decide to message Rose.  You hate to admit it, perhaps more than you hate Facebook, but she is the only one who can help you now.

                DAVE: rose

                DAVE: rose

                DAVE: ms. lalonde

                DAVE: rose

                DAVE: rosie

                DAVE: rosie posie

                DAVE: why the hell do i keep doing that

                DAVE: ignore it

                DAVE: rose

                DAVE: seriously rose i know youre here

                DAVE: youre just writing your weird wizard porn

                DAVE: or some shit

                ROSE:  I’ll have you know that the wizard porn of which you speak is more lucrative than any of your mixtapes.

                ROSE: Though you are mistaken in thinking that this activity is the one that I have decided to fill my early dawn with.

                DAVE: aaaah nobody asked you

                DAVE: their cult favorites anyway

                ROSE: No, my dear brother, they are not.  They just are not very good.  In addition to the fact that I am certain that ‘cult favorite’ is used only in regards to films, may I point out that your use of ‘their’ was incompatible for the situation?

                DAVE: no you may not

                DAVE: and fuck i make more than enough to keep making them

                ROSE: As I can see by their multiplying presence.

                ROSE: Now I do believe that you had something to ask me.

                ROSE: But before you do- let me remind you not to start sentences with ‘and’.

                DAVE: first off fuck you

                DAVE: i cant just be checking on my sister

                DAVE: my favorite sister at that

                ROSE: I will now take the time to remind you that I am your only sister.

                DAVE: details details

                DAVE: wait roxy counts

                ROSE: Roxy is your cousin.

                ROSE: I assure you that ‘cousin’ is not ‘sister’.

                DAVE: i call bullshit

                DAVE: even you cant know how shes related

                ROSE: Fine, I concede that point.

                DAVE: god

                DAVE: dont you know how to take a compliment

                DAVE: and yes i have a problem

                DAVE: that only you can fix

                DAVE: you and your porn magic

                ROSE: Dave, I refuse to help you with your sex life.

                ROSE: I will advise you to look for open sores, but as for technique, not even God can help you.

                DAVE: okay i need to talk to jade about sharing

                DAVE: i was a teen

                DAVE: ive gotten better

                DAVE: no more awkward prodding for this guy

                DAVE: foreplay and all

                ROSE: Please, Dave, just ask your question.

                DAVE: its less of a question

                DAVE: and more of a what should i do

                DAVE: which I understand is a question

                DAVE: but you know what i mean

                ROSE: Dave, I honestly do not.  Please, get on with it.

                DAVE: okay okay

                DAVE: rush much

                DAVE: no psychoanalyzing though

                DAVE: yeah i know words

                DAVE: anyway

                DAVE: theres a person

                ROSE: Isn’t there always?

                DAVE: shut it

                DAVE: it’s the guy

                ROSE: The guy who you managed to piss off your first day on the job?

                DAVE: yes

                DAVE: the English teacher

                DAVE: and hes becoming a problem

                DAVE: because im getting attached

                DAVE: i like him

                DAVE: hes funny and shit

                DAVE: and pretty adorable

                DAVE: in a bloodthirsty sort of way

                DAVE: adorabloodthirsty really

                DAVE: please say something

                DAVE: i can’t keep talking forever

                ROSE: I’d like to challenge that theory.

                DAVE: seriously???

                DAVE:  just get the fuck on with it

                ROSE: Well, this is quite the predicament.

                ROSE: I would point out that you have three choices.

                ROSE: You are able to do what’s right for me, yourself, or for the teacher.

                DAVE: you???

                DAVE: pardon my lack of French

                DAVE: but what the fuck do you have to do with this???

                ROSE: Dave, I grow weary of the way that you behave.

                DAVE: i dont understand

                ROSE: The way that you speak as though you do not matter, Dave.

                DAVE: explain

                DAVE: please

                ROSE: You have not called our brothers in almost two months now, your reasoning that they do not have time for you.  You believe that you should be punished for the things you have done Dave.

                DAVE: well i should

                DAVE: shouldnt i

                ROSE: I don’t know how many times I must say this Dave.  It was not your fault. 

                DAVE: yes it was

                DAVE: i didnt take the meds

                DAVE: i forgot

                DAVE: i messed up and i hurt him

                DAVE: no one else

                DAVE: me

                ROSE: You weren’t yourself.  You were having an episode- it’s not fair for you to be judged on what you couldn’t control.

                DAVE: maybe i was myself

                DAVE: what if that was who i am

                ROSE: My guest is awakening, and I must tend to her.

                DAVE: holy shit rose did you get laid???

                ROSE: I do not think that this is relevant to your situation.

                ROSE:  But, yes, I did get ‘laid’.

                ROSE: I do take slight offense that you believe this occurrence to be a rarity.

                ROSE: Not everyone is the ‘stud’ you are Dave.

                DAVE: hot damn

                DAVE: i might need ice for that burn

                DAVE: yeah go

                DAVE: go tend to your lady of the night

                DAVE: shit no    

                DAVE: that sounds like she’s a prostitute

                ROSE: I understand Dave.

                ROSE: Goodbye.

                DAVE: bye

                Well, that helped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys, I hoped you enjoyed that. We got a little bit of back story, and apparently Dave did some shit when he was off his medication.   
> Plus, Betty White's unmentionables got mentioned. As did Nana Egbert's.  
> Oh, so exciting.
> 
> Alrighty, off to draw and color. Comment and critique if you feel so inclined. Au revoir.


	6. NOT A CHAPTER

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about this

Okay guys, I would like to apologize for not updating in a while.  My computer died and it is safe to say all my shit(art, music and  **writing** ) is gone.  Thus, it will be a bit before I update this story in particular.

Sorry for the inconvenience but everything should be in some form of order soon.

 

C'yah.


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